


Baby, You Can Cry Tomorrow

by Peapods



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, High Heels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23815615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peapods/pseuds/Peapods
Summary: Moira and Kathleen areinstigators.
Relationships: Kathryn Janeway & Tom Paris, Kathryn Janeway/Tom Paris
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	Baby, You Can Cry Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Imagine a world where Kathryn Janeway was friends with Tom Paris' sisters.
> 
> Pure self-indulgence.
> 
> Soundtrack:
> 
> Baby, You can Cry Tomorrow -- Betty Who  
> High Heel -- Melanie C ft. Sink the Pink.

Tom was just trying to get a glass of water.

“Kath, honey, I love you, but if you don’t operate under your own power for like, 5 seconds, I will drop you on your ass and leave you there and not feel bad about it,” Moira says, not as quietly as she thinks. Tom peeks around the corner and sees his sister and another girl who is definitely not his other sister so maybe she just has the same name?

“Kath” giggles so hard she does, indeed, get dropped on her ass (Tom isn’t supposed to say that word, but his friend Fraz says it all the time so screw you, Dad). Moira, despite her warning, also sinks to the ground.

“You were the one who poured a bottle of moscato down her throat before strapping those monstrosities to her feet!” Kathleen says, appearing from the porch, also giggling. 

"I'll be dancing home tonight with my high heels in my hand!" the drunk girls sings, badly.

“We already did that, honey. Well, at least until that officer got involved," Moira says, before addressing Kathleen again, "Girl needed to learn how to cut loose.”

“I think she’s lost all her strings tonight. Man, fuck Cheb.”

Oh ho, Tom is _definitely_ not supposed to use that word.

“Blake is going to leave dog shit on his doorstep,” Kathleen says, sinking to the floor to help “Kath” out of what have to be 5 inch heels. “I’m gonna fill up a cooler of beer and go watch the fireworks.” She laughs through her nose like she’s said the most amusing thing ever.

“The Admiral is out of town still, right?”

“Til Thursday,” Tom finally says, coming into the room.

“Shit, Tommy, what? Why are you up? Fuck, you can’t say a _word_ about this, alright?”

“What’s it worth to ya?” he asks, because he’s 9, but he’s not dumb.

Kathleen’s eyes narrow, “How about I don’t tell Dad about that time at Lake Malone?”

She’s got him there.

“Fine,” he says. “Who’s she anyway?”

His sisters exchange a look, “She’s a friend. Just dumped by her jerk-off of a boyfriend ‘cause he’s a fragile little man. We wanted to take her mind off it.”

“How come I’ve never seen her before?”

“‘Cause we met her at school.”

Both Kathleen and Moira had graduated from the Academy Institute, Moira two years before. They’d then both promptly enrolled in writing and cooking programs, respectively, at the local university. It had pissed Dad off to no end. 

“Tom, lesson to learn -- never, ever expect a woman to support your life at the expense of her own.”

Tom has no idea what that means, but nods anyway.

“‘Let’s burn his shit!’” the drunk girl tries again, but it's equally tune-less.

“No, honey, that was just a song from the club. We don’t need to, ya know, commit a felony.”

“Damn it.”

“Yeah, sucks. Alright, Tommy, you want to be real useful?”

“I just wanted water.”

“Considering it a bonding moment,” Moira says, even though she’s kind of dancing with Kath to a beat only they can hear.

“Alright, what?”

“First, get yourself a water. Then come back and get one for Kath. And then go put it in the guest room. We’ll, um, attempt forward mobility.”

Tom goes to get the waters. He doesn’t know why she thinks he needs to make two trips. He has two hands. He takes them upstairs depositing one on his bedside table before taking the other to the guest room. By the time he’s making his way back to the stairwell, strangely invested in the outcome of this debacle, Kath is moving under her own power, albeit holding onto the handrail like she’s scaling Kilimanjaro. Kathleen and Moira move slowly behind her, hands out to catch her should she go down.

“Alright, Tommy, girl time. Head on back to bed,” Kathleen says quietly. Their mom sleeps like the dead, but there’s no point testing that tonight.

He does, but watches them follow Kath into the guest room, wondering who could be mean to such a pretty girl.

Even though girls are gross.

*****

“She’s very bright,” his dad is saying when Tom comes in from school. “Her proposal was some of the best work I’ve seen in years.”

“She’s a badass,” Moira says.

“Moira,” Mom sighs.

“What? We’ve only been saying it for years. We might not understand one word in three out of her mouth, but we also know we’re not the only ones,” Kathleen jumps in.

“Tom! How was school?” Mom asks when she notices him hovering.

“The same. Big old building filled with boredom and despair.”

“Son,” the Admiral sighs.

“I know, I know. But I already know all this crap.”

“Language,” all four of his family members say before Moira and Kathleen crack up.

“Well, Tom, I’m afraid you’ll have to stick out the year.”

“Who were we talking about anyway?”

“Kathryn Janeway, my new thesis student, and apparently a friend of your sisters'.”

Tom is suddenly struck with a very, very vivid memory and can’t stop the smile that spreads over his face. From behind their father, Kathleen’s face goes rigid with warning as she stares at Tom.

“Right, I think I met her once.” Moira sits up straight. “You all had that girls’ night? Ice cream and bad movies?”

“Yep, that’s the one,” Moira says coolly.

“Oh dear, sounds like a break-up remedy,” his Mom says.

“Yeah, apparently over some ‘fragile little man’ called…” he wracked his memory.

“Cheb,” Kathleen supplied. “We started calling him Cheap Imitation Boyfriend, the jackass.”

“Kath,” Mom warns.

“Well, I don’t need to know about any of that,” his dad says awkwardly. Tom has a vague thought that Moira and Kathleen knew that if that drunken escapade _had_ gotten back to the Admiral he would have _made it_ his business.

He decides they won’t even have to hold Lake Malone over his head. Obviously, Starfleet meant a lot to Kathryn Janeway and he wasn’t going to be the one to jeopardize her future.

*****

“Okay, you can come, but Tom, you have to--” Moira stalls. “Kath just lost her fiance and her dad, okay?”

“I _was_ at the funeral,” he reminds her. It’s why he wants to go. It was over three months ago and apparently no one has seen hide nor hair of her since. He kind of hates his father with the heat of a thousand suns, but he also can’t imagine losing him like Kath lost hers.

The thing with the Cardassians was scary enough.

“Yeah, but you’re, ya know, you,” she says. “And I don’t know, she’s still fragile even if she has finally dragged her ass out of bed.”

“I’ll be nice,” he promises.

He’s only 14, of course, so he knows this won’t be a repeat of the drunken girls' night he’d witnessed five years ago. They transport out to Chicago. It’s closer to Kathryn’s home in Bloomington, which is apparently devoid of any nightlife that does not include Italian food or microbrews.

They pick a jazz club and stamp Tom’s hand so there’s no chance he’ll be able to drink even if he could sneak past Moira’s eagle-eyed stare.

Kathleen arrives first, coming in from Australia and looking like she just woke up. She orders a Bloody Mary immediately before dropping her head onto the table. “I am a sham. I am a complete failure. Why the fuck did I think I could do stand-up for a living?”

Moira just pets her head.

Kathryn comes in with another girl. She looks… thin and a little brittle, but she’s wearing a dress and heels (a lot shorter than the last ones he saw her in) and her make up is done. She looks a little afraid to smile. The other girl is leading the way and greets them exuberantly.

“Hi, girls,” Kathryn says, voice husky with disuse. She looks uncertain, but Moira and Kathleen are already up and sandwiching her into a hug that Tom knows can be incredibly comforting. They had to give him a few when the Admiral came back from -- he stops thinking.

“Sit your bony ass down, Kathryn. We’re ordering apps and you will not be drinking wine. This is a whiskey night and thank fuck your heels are a proper height this time. Phoebe, our everlasting thanks, but you’re buying the next round.”

Phoebe, whoever she is, laughs. Kathryn, looking like she’s shedding some of her grief, allows herself a little laugh as well.

“As I recall, Moira, those heels were _yours_ and you were determined that I would be dancing home with them in my hand that night.”

“And you showed commendable balance, keeping those on right up until the foyer of our house. Mel C would have been proud."

Her flush is pretty as she buries her eyes in her hand. When she looks up again, she finally notices him.

“Tommy Paris?” she asks, her smile growing wider, “Well, haven’t you grown up!”

“You remember me?” he asks, feeling put on the spot and a little embarrassed because God, he was 9 then and he’s grown up. Does she have to call him Tommy?

“Well, sort of,” she laughs. “That night is a bit of a blur, but I seem to remember blackmail and a glass of water.”

"Yeah," he says, like an idiot.

"Tom's home from school and well--"

"My sister is too polite to say in front of you that my dad is--"

"Away," Moira says firmly, crunching a heel into his instep.

He grunts then scowls, but Kathryn is looking at him with something like sympathy. 

"It can be tough, being a Fleet brat," she tells him and he wants to immediately defect to Cardassia because, Jesus Christ, she's just lost her dad and he's complaining that his doesn't care to give him the time of day.

"I'm a jackass," he mumbles.

She laughs, surprising him, and apparently everyone else at the table.

“Maybe, but a lovable jackass, so I think we can forgive you,” she says, reaching over to flick his ear.

As the girls drink and Tom eats his share of the apps, he watches Kathryn, rapt. She’s not as animated as his sisters, who have more personality than is really necessary, but there’s a sparkle in her eye that reveals far more. It’s been dulled by what happened, but Kathleen is doing her damndest to bring it out again.

While Phoebe talks to his sisters about their jobs, Kathryn zeroes in on him again.

“So you’re at the Academy Institute now, right?”

“Yeah, third in my class.”

“Impressive! What’s your focus?”

“I wanna be a pilot. I mean, I wanted to sail or do deep-sea, but the Admiral,” he trails off, afraid he’s overstepped again. Admiral Paris is, after all, her mentor.

But she nods like she understands, “It’s hard, I know. Expectations are difficult to deal with.”

“Moira and Kathleen, they just… said, 'screw it' and did their own thing, so why can’t I manage it?”

She looks sympathetic again, “I won’t pretend to understand your relationship with your father. I know him in a completely different way and my own father,” she swallows with some difficulty, “Well, I wanted nothing more than to be in Starfleet. He never… it took me complaining about it for him to tell me he was proud of me. He just thought it was taken as a given.”

Tom huffs a little. He doesn’t think the Admiral has ever been proud of him, not when he’d beat that simulator at 7, not when he’d gotten into the Institute early. Always, always, always there was more to achieve, better things to be.

“I’m just saying,” she struggles a little with whatever it is she wants to say. “You know what happened a few years ago? With the Cardassians?”

Their voices are lower now and he sees Kathryn’s sister give them a concerned look before resuming her conversation, a little louder so that they have privacy.

“Yeah,” he says. They don’t talk about it. There’s an unspoken, unequivocal moratorium on talking about it. 

“Your dad changed a lot. We both did. And, well, before that, he used to talk my ear off about you.”

He looks at her, skeptical.

She laughs a little, “Yes, it was actually all his bragging that had me confront my own father. But, I’m going to tell you a secret and I want you to really think about it, okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, choked.

“He feels like a failure,” she says and she says it like it’s a fact. “And for a proud, accomplished man like your father, facing that is its own struggle. And I know you’re bearing the brunt of that and I wish I could do something to blunt that.”

“It’s not your job,” he says a little plaintively. She’s just lost her father and fiance and here she is giving him a pep talk about how shitty his dad is.

She shrugs, “I don’t want you to have any regrets about your dad. This world -- this galaxy -- isn’t kind. He could die tomorrow and you’d be the only one stuck with this feeling.”

“I hate it,” he says softly.

“And I can guarantee,” she says, equally soft, “He does too.” 

*****

“Tom Paris?”

She’s here. She’s here, pretending she doesn’t know him. Like he hasn’t seen her falling-over drunk. Like he wasn’t at her father and fiance’s funerals. Like she hadn't stood in for his father at the Academy graduation and left without a word.

He stares at her a moment and realizes. She wants a fresh start. She wants to give him a _chance_.

He grasps at it with both hands.

After she decides to destroy the Caretaker’s Array, he decides to be the one person she never has to question. His loyalty to her is absolute. He may not agree with some of her orders, he may question how she sequesters herself away from the crew (which he tries to mitigate with programs he thinks she’ll like). But he will never be the one to burden her.

She kicks his ass at pool.

For one microsecond, he thinks about changing the music in the bar. Then she smiles over her shoulder and he remembers the pips on his neck.

He leaves it.

*****

He has no earthly idea what possesses him to convince her to play Arachnia. Only, he has seen the heels the character wears. If the Captain ever finds out that he was imagining her stumbling around, drunkenly singing, she’ll have him back in the brig faster than he can say “blackmail.”

Weeks later, in her Ready Room, she says, “Thank you, Tom,” after he gives his report.

He’s confused, “Um, you’re welcome, but--”

“I meant for Arachnia,” she interrupts, giving him a knowing look. She stands and he is struck again with how tiny she is as she moves to the couch. “I’ve been hard on you, Tom. Maybe harder than you deserved.”

She gestures for him to sit on the couch even as he’s having a small crisis.

Oh, this is not what he wants. Arachnia was an apology and a peace offering. Thirty days were enough for Tom to get his head on straight, to remember everything he’s known since childhood.

She _cannot_ have dissension. She _cannot_ overlook that kind of mutinous behavior, not even for him. She _cannot_ let anyone know that she has any regret about the decision, any second-guess about her motivations. He knows that now and thinks about the incident with only a little indignation. Now, he has to let her know.

“I, you made the right choices, Captain. On all counts,” he tells her. “I said some things, things I meant at the time, but that doesn’t mean they were right or that I don’t regret them.”

“In some ways, you were right,” she tells him. “It’s not that I wasn’t sympathetic, Tom--”

“Captain, I know. Really, I’m not just saying that,” he takes a deep breath. “You don’t get the luxury, sometimes, of moral choices. You have to go with best judgement and what’s best for the crew. We don’t -- we forget that sometimes because you’re always making those choices and making it seem like it was the only one you could make. I made it harder for you.”

She smiles and looks down. He can’t see her face as the curtain of her hair falls forward. After a moment, she pushed it behind her ear and smiled at him.

“You were humming that song,” she says to him, leaning across in confidence.

Tom furrows his brow, completely confused. What would she have heard him--

“Oh God.”

Her chuckle is evil. It’s a Kathleen chuckle.

“I had no idea your memory of that night was so vivid.”

“I’m surprised you remember that night at all,” he sasses right back.

“Moira did her best,” she says. “But that song always brings the memory right back. Poor Cheb.”

“The Cheap Imitation Boyfriend?”

At that, she laughs and hard, he’s never seen her like that on the ship and he’s _delighted_. 

“I forgot about that name. And Kathleen made his life hell for at least a month.”

“Dog shit on his doorstep?”

“Menthol liniment in his jockstrap, laxatives in his beer, and socks in his freezer unit were a few of the highlights, I believe.”

Tom laughs as well. Kathleen is _evil_. Thank God she’s his sister. He’s been caught out, so he goes all in.

“Okay, I may have had ulterior motives with the costume, specifically the heels.”

“I knew it,” she says, laughing again before slapping her knees. “Alright, I think we’ve subverted the chain of command enough for this afternoon.”

“We could, I don’t know, make it a regular subversion?” Tom asks, pretty surprised at his own nerve.

She looks back, surprised. “You suddenly have time to make for an old friend of your sisters’?”

“I have plenty of time to make for _my_ old friend.”

She smiles, “Get out of here.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

*****

Dad is, of course, there when they get home to the Alpha Quadrant. Apparently, it had only taken nine years of no contact to repair their relationship, because even Tom clutches at him like a four-year-old after a nightmare. He feels Dad’s arm move and then Kathryn’s small body is pressed against his. He can feel her nails digging desperately into his back.

When they pull apart, they’re all wiping tears from their eyes and everyone else in the room is studiously ignoring them. 

“Ahem,” Dad clears his throat, “Your mother and sisters are waiting on Earth. Yours too, Kathryn.”

It almost feels like too much -- to go from only having each other to knowing that a support system is just a few systems away. It’s surreal. Tom feels like he's drunk and the room is spinning.

They are waiting. Moira has gotten older, greys all through her red hair. Kathleen has been dyeing hers, obviously. Phoebe -- he barely remembers her, but it’s obviously her -- is twisting her hands around a leash with a thoroughly excited Irish setter pulling like hell.

There are the same desperate hugs and tears. Mom is crying hard and has her arms strapped like duranium around his middle before anyone else can move. Kathleen is trying to wrestle him into a headlock, but is about seven inches too short for that. He’s hugging all of them, running his hands over their hair and backs, clasping hands, and drinking in faces he hasn’t seen in person in seven years and might never have seen again. Kathryn is quietly reassuring her mother that she’s fine, but her voice is thick with tears and one of her hands is twisted up in her sister’s sweater like she’ll never let go.

It takes a while for things to calm and then the conversation is weirdly casual. After all, they’re not about to do a deep dive into the Delta Quadrant’s Greatest Hits in the middle of a park. Phoebe is assuring Kathryn that she really does like the shorter hair, Kathleen is telling Tom something about a mermaid in Norfolk, Virginia, Gretchen and his dad are trying to arrange a dinner for all of them.

They end up at a Calexican restaurant on the east side.

“So, when were you two going to tell us about your relationship?” Moira says, as she scoops chips and salsa into her mouth with a punctuating crunch.

Kathryn goes very still. Tom, quietly, panics. His dad snickers into his beer bottle.

“Come on, who are you trying to fool?” Kathleen asks. “Don’t worry, Kath, Girl Code still applies and I know where Tommy keeps his socks.”

Finally, Kathryn breaks and starts laughing. Tom rolls his eyes and presses his face into his hands. It’s strange and wonderful and Tom isn’t sure how to hold in everything he’s feeling. The past and present are colliding, an emotional coalition forcing him to reconcile both the bitter and the blissful. His chest suddenly feels tight and he’s trying to breathe when he feels Moira’s hand -- he’d know his sister’s hand anywhere -- alight on his back, firm and comforting.

Kathryn is enduring teasing from her sister and Kathleen is teasing Gretchen about one of her neighbors and Dad is looking right at him like he’s afraid Tom will disappear in the next moment. Tom knows the feeling.

His dad clear his throat, “So, what’s this your sisters tell me about Lake Malone?”

**Author's Note:**

> Kathleen is absolutely based on Kathleen Madigan. Both Kathleen and Moira are both based on my sisters, biological and otherwise.
> 
> Also, what happens at the lake, stays at the lake.


End file.
